Midnight

Chapter 9 The Prince

Chapter nine

The Prince

Though many a prince has swept a maiden off her feet with charm, beware the prince who values power over their own people.

Tales From Meridea, Volume II

The last thirty minutes had just been Luci pacing the hardwood floor, wearing it down until it was a miracle she hadn’t fallen through into the parlor below.

Below, where Prince Ira and Brielle had been joined by Lord and Lady Treveon.

Good will and well wishes spilling like a bottle of wine.

If only they knew what the truth was. That Brielle had entered into an impossible bargain.

In fact, at least twenty-nine out of the last thirty minutes had been Luci convincing herself not to go tell Brielle she was out of her mind.

Flashes of the vision she had seen accosted her mind, reminding her what was possible.

Brielle is running and healthy. Prince Ira and she had been reaching for each other.

The words he had spoken to her. Maybe this was how it was supposed to happen.

Maybe it was their engagement that brought it all to fruition. Except that was all insane.

Scratching her dark head of hair, she groaned up to the sky. Nothing made sense. That was it. She was going to march down there and ask to speak to Brielle privately, convince her to call off the whole thing, then accept the consequences as they came.

The door opened, and Luci squealed, heart pumping erratically. Calcifer let out a low meow and shot her a glare that should have turned her to stone right there before curling back into a ball and stretching his legs. How he managed such a feat was beyond her.

“Brielle is asking for you, and she says to stop pacing; it will all be fine,” Mrs. Blakesley said, arms crossed.

Luci stared with her mouth open. They had all gone mad.

“She said she would marry him!” Luci shouted probably too loud.

Two arched eyebrows, “And she has asked for you.”

Groaning, Luci threw herself onto the bed and screamed into the mattress. Brielle wanted her to go down there. Where Prince Ira was. Brielle’s fiancé.

“If you are done throwing a tantrum, I am to escort you to make sure you don’t run away, though why Lady Brielle would have to worry about that, I don’t know.”

“I’m cursed.” Luci pouted, her chest too tight.

“Yes, cursed to plague me. Get up, Lucinda.”

A light thump on her leg said she had used up what little patience Mrs. Blakesley had.

Fine. She would waltz into the parlor and melt into the floorboards until she was nonexistent.

With defeat in her heart and despair pumping through her blood, Luci lifted herself off the bed and met Calcifer’s gaze as he cracked one eye open.

“You are so lucky you are a cat,” she said.

He seemed to be in agreement as he tucked his face tighter into his body and went back to sleep, soft snores mixing with wheezes. Maybe she should stop feeding him quite so many treats, given the way his massive body rose and fell. Probably not, he wouldn’t approve.

“Lucinda.” Mrs. Blakesley said.

Fine. She was going. Throwing a scarf around her head of blue flowers with a white background, she tied it and faced her kidnapper with outstretched arms.

“Happy?” she asked.

In answer, Mrs. Blakesley held out her hand towards the door.

Grumpy woman. Out of reasons to delay, Luci walked herself down the stairs until the sound of laughter rang in her ears.

Prince Ira’s laugh. Someone should have told him that he could pull back on the charm since Lord Treveon was unlikely to withdraw his approval of the engagement.

Standing in front of the door, Luci stared at the gold doorknob, imagining that it was scalding and would burn her at the lightest touch.

She needn’t have worried, though, as Mrs. Blakesley reached around her and pushed open the door.

So helpful. Luci sent her a rueful glare over her shoulder before pasting on a smile that probably reeked of insincerity.

Lord Treveon paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at her audacity. No doubt he was not informed of her summons. It was almost surprising he hadn’t locked her up to avoid this exact situation. Brielle, all grace, ignored him, holding her hand out to Luci.

“Oh, Luci, you must meet Prince Ira,” she said, a gleam in her eye that shouldn’t have been there.

Luci wanted to shake her and tell her this was all fake, but that likely would have been counterproductive, so instead she placed her hand in Brielle’s, squeezing her hand tightly as she bowed.

“Prince Ira, it’s an honor to meet you.”

As she lifted her head, her gaze fell on the prince who, only a night ago, had twirled her and whispered in her ear.

For a moment, she felt frozen, sure the truth was written all over her face.

His eyes roamed over her face and over her hair as if he were cataloging her.

Time and space were paralyzed beneath those eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said, reaching out his hand for hers. “Brielle has spoken very highly of you.”

Oh no. This was not a situation Luci could have foreseen. She could practically feel Lord Treveon’s eye burning into her. She waited for him to remind the prince that she was merely a servant, not worth wasting niceties on, but no proclamation came while awkward silence grew around them.

Brielle squeezed her hand.

With all the trepidation in the world, Luci placed her free gloved hand in his and tried not to die as he placed the lightest feather of a kiss onto it that seared and burned her skin. Withdrawing the offending appendage, she gripped her dress, hoping it would quell the burning flames. It didn’t.

“Brielle has always been kind and treats the servants with the utmost generosity, as you can see with Lucinda.” Lord Treveon said.

There it was. A moment too late. Prince Ira’s lip curled up, but there was a flash in his eyes that he quickly hid behind impeccable manners.

“Please, sit,” he said as if it were his home.

Wondering if she could will herself to die, Luci took the seat between Brielle and Prince Ira, who had his body angled towards her, threatening to brush her knee. Every muscle in her body tightened, protesting the closeness.

“I’m sure, Lucinda has other-.” Lord Treveon began.

“I am told you are particularly gifted in herbology.” Prince Ira said.

Luci chanced a glance at Lord Treveon whose face was now a color similar to an eggplant. Light above, he was going to kill her.

“I manage,” Luci said, remembering too late that she should have thanked him for the compliment.

“I’ve never had to send for a healer thanks to her potions. She even found one that eases hay fever.” Brielle said, a wide smile gracing her lips.

“Is that so?” Prince Ira said. “I would be interested in learning your methods.”

“It would bore you, I’m sure,” Luci said, teeth grinding together.

“Lucinda, would you ask Mrs. Blakesley to arrange for more firewood to be brought in?” Lord Treveon said.

If words could smite down innocent women, his would have. As it so happened, she was inclined to allow it, but before she could stand, Brielle squeezed her hand.

“Actually, I was happy you could join us, Luci.” Prince Ira said.

The world seized around her at her name on his lips.

Her real name. However, it was nothing of consequence to him.

After all, she was just Brielle’s companion, and this was the first time they had ever met.

A sharp stab in her heart told her the truth she had fought against since the moment she learned he was coming to Blythe.

Despite everything it would have meant, Luci had hoped he would recognize her beneath the mask.

That her voice, her presence, would have made him realize it was she who had danced with him.

She who had been thrown into mortal peril by him.

That may have been dramatic, but the scars on her hand were at least deserving of recognition.

“I have asked Brielle to join me at the castle in two days' time to officially announce our engagement. I was hoping you would be able to join us,” he said.

There was a heaviness to her that hadn’t been there when she stepped into the room. Glancing at Brielle, she found her friend smiling, but whatever she saw in Luci’s face dropped the corners of her lips, her eyes flashing with concern.

“I’m sure-.” Lord Treveon tried.

“I can’t do without you, Luci. Please.” Brielle said.

It was the one weapon she could never withstand, and Brielle knew it. There was no place in her heart to refuse her. It was a truth that had been tested and tried the night before. The very reason this scenario existed.

“Of course, I’d be happy to,” Luci said, ignoring the lump in her throat. “Now, if you will excuse me, I will see to the firewood.”

Firewood in summer heat. For reasons that were inexplicable to her, as Luci closed the door to the parlor, doing her best to acknowledge the polite dismissals, her soul felt a weariness that no sleep could cure.

*****************************************************************************

Luci had always known one thing to be true- Brielle Treveon was her home.

Rain or shine, night or dark. Healthy or unhealthy.

The light in her mind would always point her to Brielle.

Yet, sitting on the edge of the bed they shared with her head in her hands, all she could think was how much she wanted to kill her.

Maybe not that dramatic, but she was certainly more frustrated with her than she had ever been.

The moon had crested over Blythe, keeping watch three hours ago, and Brielle was still downstairs, swooning for Prince Ira.

It was like she had never known her before this moment.

Except for what she had said in the field not that long ago.

Where she had wished for more from life.

A husband, a family, purpose. Maybe this was what she saw in Prince Ira.

The door opened, and Luci jumped up with a speed she hadn’t thought capable. Calcifer, who had been half purring, half wheezing beside her, gave her an indignant glare as if she were the problem.

“You woke up Calcifer,” Brielle said.

Walking over to the edge of the bed, Brielle knelt down and petted the orange furball, murmuring apologies and telling him how Luci was sorry, which she was not.

“Have you lost your mind?” Luci asked, feeling thoroughly ignored and half sane.

Entirely unbothered, Brielle smiled up at her.

“He’s very handsome.”

“Calcifer?” Luci asked.

Brielle chuckled and ruffled Calcifer’s head, which earned her a deeper purr.

“Prince Ira,” she hummed. “You forgot to mention that part.”

Luci stared wide-eyed at her home, which had been the only consistent thing in her life.

“Handsome?” she mouthed before saying, “Brielle Treveon, we do not swoon over princes that waltz into other people’s homes and declare themselves engaged.”

Brielle stood and began fussing with Luci’s dark hair, running her fingers over the inky strands as if she could wipe away the dye.

“He’s kind too,” she said.

“He locked me in a room of mirrors and gave me these,” she said, holding up her hands.

“He’s very sorry.” Brielle offered, with a small smile she tried to hide.

Light above, she was going to scream. The last fever had clearly done more damage than she had realized.

“So you are going to marry him?”

The smile slowly slipped from Brielle’s face, and her eyes searched Luci’s.

“Would you be upset if I did?” she asked.

What a question. For some reason, the refusal didn’t erupt from her lips like it should have. It sat on the back of her throat, percolating and festering. No. Two letters. It was all she had to say, but she couldn’t vomit up the words.

“Is that what you want?” Luci asked instead.

If the answer was yes, she would be supportive.

She would cough up the simple word and smile every time Brielle asked her to.

She would ignore the sickly feeling in her gut and tell her that everything was perfect.

Maybe over time, the trepidation would ease.

Years of seeing Brielle happy would soothe her sore throat.

Brielle leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to Luci’s cheek.

“You are everything, Lucinda Blackthorn. There is lavender peach pie downstairs.”

With that, she turned to the dresser and proceeded to ready herself for bed, like she hadn’t just changed everything, as if Luci could be distracted during such times with the idea of pie, even if it was one of her favorites.

“Will you braid my hair?” Brielle asked, holding out a pink ribbon.

It had been years since they had braided each other’s hair.

An old habit from when they were girls. Something in the request hit Luci squarely in the chest. Her eyes stung as she nodded.

Brielle sat at the edge of the bed and pulled Calcifer into her lap while Luci slowly pieced out her blond locks.

“I want you to be happy,” Luci said when she was sure her voice would be steady.

“I know,” Brielle answered.

As if those words could ever be enough, Luci tied the ribbon and watched as Brielle scooted back into the bed and placed Calcifer in the middle, where he quickly stretched out his back like a cloud of fluff.

Feeling broken in ways she could never express, Luci climbed into bed and lay with her eyes closed.

Within a few minutes, Brielle’s breathing steadied like she was entirely at peace.

It was hard to envy something she wanted for herself, but she was full of contradictory feelings, which explained why, a few hours later, she slowly edged out of bed and tied a light blue robe over her body.

Pie might be the only thing that would ease the storm inside.

So under the protection of darkness, Luci snuck into the kitchen.